


It might as well be nothing

by Kami_del_Antro



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: All or Nothing, Angst, Canach - Freeform, Defiant Heart Guild, Living World 4, Original Character(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 13:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17366636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kami_del_Antro/pseuds/Kami_del_Antro
Summary: The Dragonslayer, the Godkiller, the leader of the prestigious guild Defiant Heart, Sinéad Steinbrecher, deals with the aftermath of the fight against Kralkatorrik.





	It might as well be nothing

**Author's Note:**

> This LW episode destroyed me and I wrote this while crying at 7 am. I took the screenshot while playing with Kyrie. At the time, we didn't know.
> 
> Obviously there's spoilers from All or Nothing. Be warned.

**+++**

“Commander Steinbrecher! Please, wait!” the Pact medic yelled, but it was no use. As soon as she was able to stand, Sinéad limped back towards the Forge.

She could feel the deep, useasy silence that fell as she advanced. She tried to pay no mind to the staring, and the murmurs. She could still hear Glint’s voice on her head, talking about the prophecy, of their promised victory. The rage the memory alone infused in her was enough to keep going.

“Ah! Commander,” she heard Canach say, as he quickly stood up from one of the tables where he sat with Commander Irene. The sound of coins on the leather purse on his hip was telling of what he was doing to pass the time. “You’re up way, way before we expected you to-…”

“Call Marshal Thackeray,” she ordered. Canach gave her a thorny raised brow.

“Excuse me?” he said. Quickly, Irene stood beside him and grabbed his arm, softly pulling back.

“You heard me!” roared Sinéad, as she kept on struggling to advance.

“Shoud I…?” asked Canach. Irene shook her head, lowering her gaze with a frown.

“I’ve known her for years now,” she explained. “It’s better to stay out Commander Steinbrecher’s way when she’s like this. And to keep her out of harm’s way.”

“Ouch, stingy,” Canach murmured. “No first-name bassis for the Commander, huh?”

Sinéad ignored the pair, advancing like a avalanche through the forge. She soon met Hilina, who even on her armor, seemed taken aback by her presence.

“Why is the forge inactive, Forge Master?” she grunted. The Exalted took a second to answer.

“We need the unique resonance that only Aurene can provide,” she explained, slowly. Sinéad closed her eyes at the mention of the scion, as if someone had slapped her. “Without her, we can’t…”

“How many we have left?” Sinéad interrupted. Hilina didn’t respond. “How many Dragonblood spears are available for use? Answer, now.”

“Steinbrecher.”

Sinéad glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Giralein. The sylvari seemed slightly bruised, but as lucid and strong as always. However, his bright, green eyes shot her a glare that adviced caution.

“No. Just, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Go back to rest. You’re unwell.”

“But not unfit,” growled Sinéad back, through gritted teeth.

“You’re most certainly unfit!” retorted Giralein, gesticulating towards her whole body. “And not only physically!”

“I just need to go back to the front, that’s all,” Sinéad insisted, towering above Giralein. The sylvari seemed unimpressed. “Do what I say. Call Marshal Thackeray.”

“Let me remind you, Commander Steinbrecher, that you don’t outrank me,” said Giralein, blue fire licking his fingertips as he got frustrated. “Go back to rest. You’re being unreasonable.”

“Did you even see what happened out there?!” Sinéad roared, her voice echoing through the forge. “We lost! Terribly so! We need to step up. We need to keep on fighting. We need to-…”

A purple tidal wave washed over the wounded norn, launching her backwards to the floor. Giralein took Caladbolg’s hilt, on alert, until she saw the regal visage of Kyrie Sirhasi, with Astralaria on her hand and determination on her gaze. She was almost as wounded as Sinéad, but had suffered less of Kralkatorrik’s fury. She advanced like a queen among her kind, looking at Sinéad without a hint of pity or guilt.

“What in Bear’s name are you-…” Sinéad whined, before Kyrie put Astralaria to her throat.

“Go and rest,” she ordered. “Now.”

“Kralkatorrik it’s still out there, Sirhasi,” hissed Sinéad, slowly getting up from the floor. “We can’t let him escape. We can’t-…”

“We can, and we will,” retorted Kyrie. “Let the Pact take over the defense. Go, and rest.”

Sinéad growled. If anyone doubted the old folktale that the Snow Leopard herself had taught her how to hunt, the fire in her eyes was enough to dispell any doubt about it. Kyrie, however, seemed undeterred.

“People died out there, people who believed in me,” Sinéad said, gesticulating towards the Auditorium’s door. “We can’t let up. Not now that we were so close. Not now that Aurene-…”

Sinéad cut herself, her voice breaking slightly. She cleared her throat, gritting her teeth and shaking her head to take her mind out of it.

“We can’t keep losing anymore. I won’t allow it!” Sinéad swore.

And Kyrie slapped her.

The sound echoed as Sinéad’s voice did before, as the Commander stood still, stunned at the mesmer’s actions.

“How will you do it, Steinbrecher,” Kyrie questioned, her voice trembling in righteous anger. “How will you stop losing. Tell me.”

Sinéad didn’t answer. Kyrie huffed through her nose.

“That’s what I thought. Because every single time Sinéad Steinbrecher goes on a rampage, people die,” she recalled. “Even yourself.”

Giralein looked away. He had been the one to gather and save Sinéad’s ashes when she fell against Balthazar. The memory still haunted him, and Sinéad knew that.

“I… I have to…” muttered Sinéad, clenching her teeth once more.

“That’s how people die!” Kyrie yelled, pointing at Sinéad’s chest with Astralaria. “That’s how you died. So don’t go and run to get yourself killed again. Don’t let Aurene’s sacrifice be in vain. Don’t let my husband’s sacrifice be in vain.”

Sinéad glanced over at Giralein; Caladbolg’s current owner, leader of the Knights of the Thorn. And Sharur’s weight on her back became unbearable; the hammer she had made to honor Trahearne’s duty.

She closed her eyes tightly, but still warm tears fell down her tattooed cheeks and kept pooling on her eyes. She felt Kyrie’s and Giralein’s embrace, as they let her cry and escorted her back to the barracks. Her job was not yet over. She doubted it’ll ever be.

But, somehow, she had to live to see it through.


End file.
